Sam Porter Bridges in the Shower with Deadman
by Casidel Bowen
Summary: Sam finally has a moment to rest, until he receives an urgent call from Deadman concerning monster BTs, Die-Hardman and the lasting effects of chiralium on those with DOOMS. And the only solution is a nice hot shower.


**Sam Porter Bridges in the Shower with Deadman**

**by Casidel Bowen**

In South Knot City, Sam Porter Bridges was underground in his private room when a call pinged him on the chiral network. It was Deadman.

"Sam," he said, "I have urgent news. I'm going to transport to where you are via Fragile's Beach in a moment. See you soon."

*Can't get a moment's rest* thought Sam, *No one here knows the aches and pains of being a porter in the UCA. Since the chiral network started going back up, I've even started delivering pizzas. It's a grind and no one understands. Especially not these eggheads. Screw America!* and Deadman suddenly appeared before him in a fiery haze.

"Sam," he said, "Glad to see you're well. I don't have much time-"

*Getting right to it, huh?* thought Sam.

"My lab, that is to say, I myself have been really digging into, shall we call it, the Sam Bridges Broth-"

*Don't.* Sam urged in his mind.

"-you've been sending every time you bathe, defecate, or take a leak. And it's brought to my attention some potentially catastrophic results. Results which might topple the UCA entirely, if not handled correctly."

Deadman stopped, looked around the room, and surreptitiously walked into the shower. "C'mon Sam, before it's too late."

*Whatever it is, it must be sensitive if we need to do it in the shower where no one will see or hear us.* Sam mulled over in his mind. * Where even the cameras and microphones are blocked for privacy.*

"Alright," said Sam, "But it better be worth my time."

"I'll spam you a thousand likes, afterwards," Deadman replied.

And with that assurance, Sam moseyed into the shower. The automatic door slipped shut and locked behind him.

"As a repatriot, and someone with DOOMS, I'm sure you're aware that your body reacts differently to chiralium frequencies and crystallization than average human bodies ever could in the same circumstances. I'm sure you've also noted the strange, almost sentient creatures that inhabit the Beach. It turns out that these creatures also have a form of DOOMS which is distinct to their own species. They often grow bigger, and mutate into tentacle-faced monsters, and so on. I've discovered that this is due to chiralium build-up in certain orifices and body cavities which cause interdimentional interferences with development on the biological nanoscale. The body warps because it essentially fuses into one with its own resident bacteria, fully rewriting your individual genetic fingerprints from the foundation upwards."

"If that's the case, why not just flush out the bacteria? And why tell me here, of all places?"

"Would if I could Sam," he sighed, "On both cases. The human body is a host to its resident biome for a reason. Without it, the body slowly declines and dies. For you, it would mean setting up your own semi-permanent residence on the Beach as you continually die and resurrect over and over again.

"Secondly, Die-hardman read into my research about it, as he's want to do, and brought it up to me in a holoconference call just this morning. He wants to weaponize it against the BTs, Sam. Fighting fire with fire. He used to be a soldier, and while I understand his zeal for security, I cannot allow any more monsters into the world. Being one myself, my conviction urges me to rebel against it."

"OK," said Sam, "Where does that leave me, though?"

"That's the rub, isn't it," Deadman said, "Literally, in this case. Normal chemicals won't flush out or neutralize chiralium build-up in the human body. And the invasive tools we have aren't hard enough or springy enough to do the job. Plus, they'd be difficult to use in secret.

"Before I came, I managed to reroute this particular shower's sample delivery system to a secret lab I have off premises. My own little black site. So, we should be fine... Sam, for the sake of the UCA, you need to set aside your aphenphosmphobia for a moment and get nude while I do my own work to keep you and everyone else safe from this threat."

"G-get nude," sputtered Sam, "You mean you're gonna put your hands on me?"

"I'm afraid I'll have to do a lot more than that, Sam. Trust me, though, it'll all be over in a couple minutes."

"And... and only skin-to-skin contact will do it?"

"It's the best and easiest way, Sam. Unless you want to become a monster, like I am, it's the only way."

Sam turned around, unable to look Deadman in the eye any longer, and removed his clothing. The jumpsuit he wore slipped from his shoulders, revealing dark handprints all over his bruised yet supple body. The chiseled form of a porter who's traveled the farthest reaches of the abandoned West, from wide open prairie to highest mountain. Yet as strong as his body was, his soul remained shy.

Behind him, a zipper unzipped.

"I swear this is the only way, Sam," said Deadman, "You've made countless deliveries for me as a legendary porter. Now, I feel I must do my part, and repay you by delivering my own package." Sam felt something huge and bulbous between his thighs. Moving from his taint, up the elastic valley of his glutes, seeking the untouched splendor of his earthen cavity. "I'll make sure it's a special delivery, Sam. Fast and direct. From me to you."

Just then, Deadman's bulging head pierced through his virginal wall. Still squeaking with purity after all these years, thanks to his aphenphosmphobia. He grunted inwards, sucking in the air around him, as his body convulsed on its own. Closing tightly around Deadman's throbbing meat wedge.

"I expected you'd be tight, Sam," he breathed, straining, "If only because of myself. I really am like a Frankenstein. Every portion of me, a little larger than most, out of selection bias. As scaling things up makes them easier to work with during surgery. Still, I should've taken your own proclivities into account. I'm selfish. I know. Forgive me, Sam."

His member's head moved out a little, only to be forced in a little harder. Sam grunted, and moaned, and started to whine as Deadman worked his way in. Going deeper and deeper, until Sam could feel his pelvis on the ridges of his buns, meaning Deadman was in. Fully, to the base.

"You've done well so far, Sam," Deadman spoke behind him, echoing around the ambient shower as if from some far off grave, "Now, the real work begins."

Deadman began to move. First, only a little, slowly building up momentum. Sam tried to remain still, remote yet pliable, then he felt hands on his hips. They were Deadman's.

"You're a dead man, Deadman!" He yelled, "What's the meaning of this? I can only take so much!"

"I know, Sam," said Deadman, "I'm sorry. But every craftsman needs to handle his tools right, right? I know you are having trouble with even this much human contact, but doing this will make everything go smoother and allow me to work faster."

"Alright," Sam winced, "Just so you know, though. Do it right, and hurry up, then."

"You got it, Sam," he replied, shaking Sam by the waist. Sam felt Deadman's enervated flesh thrusting back and forth with regular frequency, now. His body still convulsed, and waves of panic spiked over his skin in singular flashes, but something else also grew within him. Like unfamiliar terrain which gradually becomes navigable after stumbling across its topography for miles at a time, a piece of his core began to find its own sense of balance and adapt to the motion of the piston making its passage through his hindquarters.

"Sam, we're near the end. I need to deliver a special lubricant that will allow me to scrape away the final remnants of the chiralium build-up within your anal cavity. Will you give me your verbal signature, and accept the load I have to offer?"

"Yes," replied Sam, exhausted, "I accept all of it. For once, I'll be the recipient!"

What at first felt like a burning cloud, exploded in the foundation of his private shelter, coating the walls in its insulating gelatin, briefly stirring up before being pulled out completely. Indeed, Sam felt a bit lighter than he had before, giving credence to Deadman's words.

Sam drifted down to his side to rest, collapsing with his shoulder against the cool glass of the half-ovular shower.

"That's enough, Sam," said Deadman, "You did splendidly, like always. I'll turn on the shower, so you can clean up. I need to get back to my laboratory, post-haste."

He turned on the water and started to leave. Then, suddenly, turned around. "Oh, yeah," he said, smiling, "I can't forget. This is for you." He gave a long thumbs-up, and kept it up until Sam got almost two thousand likes.

"It's like they say," Deadman said, his whole body beaming and unambiguously content, "You truly are a legend, Sam Porter Bridges."

**AN: This is the first porn I ever wrote. I was watching Jacksepticeye's playthrough of Death Stranding when the infamous shower scene came up, and I thought I just had to do something with it. How could I not? I'd been toying with the idea of writing porn for a while, so I figured this would be a fun launching point.**

**Anyhoo, I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.**


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